


Shrine to a minor God

by Nival_Vixen



Series: Short & sweet tumblr-weed [35]
Category: Ancient Greek Religion & Lore
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gods & Goddesses, Based on a Tumblr Post, Bees, Cheese, Complete, Gods, I Blame Tumblr, Inspired By Tumblr, Minor Gods - Freeform, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Respect the minor gods, Worldbuilding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-14
Updated: 2020-12-14
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:15:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28068408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nival_Vixen/pseuds/Nival_Vixen
Summary: At the age of ten, some special individuals are granted special powers by the ancient Greek Gods. As the clock strikes twelve on your birthday, heavenly light strikes you. You have been Chosen.Unfortunately, it’s by Aristaois: the God of beekeeping and cheese.
Series: Short & sweet tumblr-weed [35]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/97814
Comments: 6
Kudos: 9





	Shrine to a minor God

**Author's Note:**

> I spelled Aristaeus/Aristaos' name as it was in the Tumblr prompt post, which is an alternative spelling according to [Wikipedia](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Aristaeus).

Ten is the age some children are Chosen, so of course, schools encourage younger children to look at the varied range of Ancient Greek Gods and create shrines during class to accompany the usual morning rituals they favour. Some families have their own personal rituals, but your parents don’t come from a line of Chosen, so your ritual consists of running through the fields before you have to ready yourself for school.

Most children choose to create shrines to the Gods that are more popular, the ones who result in riches, in fame, in adoration. Some wish and pray, promising to be the best Chosen if only they’re Chosen. The Gods know what it is to make a real promise, and most children don’t have the capacity to keep one longer than a week, certainly not long enough for the effort required to Choose a mortal among the millions of possible children.

You have no interest in fame or riches. You prefer the world outside, and you know the rush of what it is to be in nature, lying in fields of grass and breathing with the world around you. Your shrine is to another God, a lesser or minor God, but not one you take seriously. Despite the shrine building exercise, there is a wildness about you that not even formal education can tame. Your parents think it’s a phase, perhaps a sign of a great god Choosing you.

Despite the lack of Chosen in your family line, at eleven PM the night before your tenth birthday, you can feel your heart racing in anticipation and you feel like you’ll _never_ be able to sleep. The light wakes you at midnight, the clock striking but the sound is dimmed while you’re encased in the light. It reminds you of honey, thick and slow, and even though you thought you’d never sleep, it is _now_ that you’re wide awake, light and a promise filling you with your Choosing.

The thing about Gods is that they need belief to continue their existence. Aristaois is barely hanging on, overtaken by gods of harvest, of riches, of sports, and beauty. Even Hephaestus has increased in popularity, thanks to Etsy being bought by one of the Gods' Chosen. The popularity of the Chosen’s metalwork and carpentry skills has become so sought-after that Hephaestus has a new temple being built the next town over.

You make a promise that everyone will pray to Aristaois and restore your God.

No one expected it to be true, though. No one expected Aristaois to Choose you. Most people have to Google him to find out what he even does as a minor God. Aristaois is, as minor Gods oft are, a God of more than bees and cheese. He is a god of hunting, healing, of fruit trees and vegetables, dairy, and the cool winds on hot summer days. He supports other Gods of the harvest, but just like humans, those Gods have forgotten him, too. 

At first, it is winter and there is little obvious change. The bees have been going extinct for some time now and nothing has been done or changed then, either. You have patience in a way that only a child can and watch as the winds die on hot days at your command. The pollen brought about on these breezes doesn’t move nor pollinate, especially without the bees’ hard work. Cows refuse to be milked or run dry, and considering the number of foods requiring milk powder or solids - far beyond cheese, though that of course suffers, too. Fruit trees are barren, vegetables rot in the earth, even as spring thaws the world. Nets break in the oceans, traps are empty, and even the chickens escape.

Finally, the world starts to take notice and realises that something is wrong.

Aristaois isn’t the first Ancient Greek God that is thought of as interviews with nearly all registered Chosen are played on the TV and printed in the papers. Then, when those Chosen are unable to provide an answer, there are human experts interviewed, but no one knows what’s going on there, nor how to fix it.

The children Chosen by the harvesting gods and goddesses try to bring about their food and crops, but their rituals depend on the natural order. Of course, their crops fail and slowly, the stored fruits, vegetables, fish, beef, chicken start to dwindle. Grapes and vineyards turn bitter and not a single bottle of wine is produced that season. Beer and alcohol productions come to a stop, despite Dionysus’ best efforts.

Soon after the alcohol has dwindled to the last drop as autumn approaches, someone does their research rather than relying on interviewing Zeus’ Chosen for the fifth time in as many weeks, and Aristaois’ name is finally revealed.

It still takes a week for anyone to come to you, and in that time, Aristaois is blamed for everything that has happened. On par with Hades, your God is considered evil for his deeds against humanity. It’s as far from the truth as rain is from the desert.

Journalists camp on your parents’ lawn, desperate for answers or even just a headline. Police, politicians, and even Presidents and Prime Ministers visit and call your parents, demanding to speak to you.

_You’re not allowed to talk to strangers_ , you say, eyes wide and innocent.

The humans stop trying to persuade you, and soon the Chosen start.

The more popular Chosen attempt to bribe you with jewels and money and things you have no need of. You watch as their bribes turn to pleas. Apollo’s Chosen - your God’s father - even begs on his knees.

Your parents are concerned, worried about how far a ten-year-old’s promise will go and what else you will do in Aristaois’ name. You’re eleven now, a whole year older, and not enough strength has returned to your God to fulfil your promise, so you reassure them and continue on.

The Chosen from other minor Gods flock to you, just like your God’s shepherding, as you knew they would. The power of prophecy is on your side and you know it won’t be much longer now.

It starts in your street, Aristaois’ name is breathed in the morning ritual, a new name added to the personal rituals of most families and hoping it will be enough. It’s not, not yet.

The neighbourhood joins in after a Neighbourhood Watch meeting to protect a single fruit tree that has bloomed with sweet apples on your street. A vine of grapes is harvested from someone’s porch three blocks down, and they’re offered far too much money from several companies for a single grape. They offer the first grape in Aristaois’ name, then sell a few to pay their student loans.

The school rings to ask how to pronounce Aristaois’ name properly, and his is first in the morning school ritual the very next morning. The potato farmer on the outskirts of town put signs in their front garden to thank Aristaois and plead for a good harvest, then spends the next day planting seeds with a cool breeze at their back.

More neighbourhoods start to include your God’s name, towns fill with signs and posters, someone gets wind of the orchards and prosperous farms, the TVs are filled with brighter colours than most have seen in over a year. Greens and oranges and yellows and even the brown potatoes look good. Someone posts a video crying over Brussel sprouts.

In a few short weeks, it feels like the whole country is praying to Aristaois, maybe even the world itself. The Chosen of other minor Gods claim to have been your friend from long ago, companies and businesses are calling so often that your parents have changed their phone number three times, and you can’t leave the house some days without people calling out your God’s name.

You ensure no one builds a temple to Aristaois, as He wouldn’t want something physical replacing the natural world around you, and instead encourage people to leave their homes and worship Aristaois outside.

The world is green and lush around you, bees are no longer extinct, and your God is as revered as Zeus himself. As midnight chimes and ushers in your thirteenth birthday, you know that you have finally fulfilled your promise to Aristaois. After everything, you’re grateful that Thanatos didn’t answer your childhood shrine.

...

The end

Thanks for reading; I hope you liked it!

**Author's Note:**

> Posted on [Tumblr](https://nivalvixen.tumblr.com/post/637475311860219904/rose-de-noire-missvoncheese-writing-prompt-s)


End file.
